


Memorial

by Maisie_top_trash



Series: Unseen - Fear Will Lose [46]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, Crisis, Death, Depression, Grief, M/M, Mental Illness, Mourning, Psychosis, Schizoaffective Disorder, Schizophrenia, Self Harm, memorial, mental health, tw in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisie_top_trash/pseuds/Maisie_top_trash
Summary: How could you leave me?All that had been running through Tyler’s head for the last week was that same question, over and over and over again. How could you leave me, Josh?Loosely inspired by Dana Gioia’s poem, Planting a Sequoia
Relationships: Tyler Joseph/Josh Dun
Series: Unseen - Fear Will Lose [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/561244
Comments: 27
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I read this poem:
> 
> http://danagioia.com/planting-a-sequoia/
> 
> And it made me think a lot about death, and, several hours later, here we are. Ta dah!
> 
> Triggers for this fic include:  
> Death  
> Graphic descriptions and discussion of dead bodies  
> Suicide  
> Self harm  
> Hospitalisation  
> Sedation/restraint  
> (Very briefly) weight/calories
> 
> Let me know if you have any specifics you’d like me to check for before you read <3

How could you leave me?

All that had been running through Tyler’s head for the last week was that same question, over and over and over again. How could you leave me, Josh? How could you do this to me? How, how could you abandon me to walk this Earth alone?

Tyler knew it wasn’t a choice that his late-husband had made, he knew it wasn’t Josh’s intention to get in a crash, but that logic did nothing to stifle his whole body-wrenching pain and anger and confusion and hurt and utter loneliness. It was a vicious loneliness that had sunk its claws into his bones many months ago and now possessed his every moment. It hurt, it physically hurt, to feel so empty all the time. 

He was surrounded by his loved ones almost 24 hours a day, but he was trapped behind a metaphorical glass sheet, a wall of grief separating Tyler from any other soul, isolating him entirely. For so long he had tried so hard to smash through it, exhausting himself with his efforts to try and connect with his beloved mother once again, but it was all in vain as he sunk further and further into his grief, unable to catch the hands that were reaching out for him as he fell. 

It had been Mom’s idea, the service, because she too recognised that Tyler was only becoming more and more cemented in his grief as the weeks went by and he did nothing but sit in his bed and cry. Seasons had changed but he hadn’t moved. She was trying to help, as she always was, but Tyler just couldn’t do what she was expecting him to do. 

Where do you begin when writing a speech about your dead husband?

What do you say at the 3 year memorial service of his death? Especially after you missed his funeral because you were sectioned in a psychiatric hospital. 

How was Tyler supposed to put on paper what Josh had meant and continued to mean to him? It didn’t seem possible.

Over the course of the week since he’d been told, Tyler hadn’t written a single word, not one, and now his time had run out and the clock chimes would come and he’d be bundled into the back of the car to be driven to the cemetery and be expected to talk. But he couldn’t talk, he, he couldn’t even breathe. 

“10 minute warning baby,” Mom appeared at the doorframe in a black dres to tell him, voice hushed. 

“Have you taken your medication?” She asked and he nodded through the gasping tears, unable to make eye contact. “Have you had your PRN as well? You’re allowed,”

He’d taken all his prescribed routine medication, plus all the rescue medication too, but it did nothing to even begin to interfere with the constant overwhelming aching all over Tyler’s body. He just wanted to be held by his husband one more time, just one more time, but Josh was gone and his corpse was 3 years buried. 

“Do you want space? Or company?”

The only company he could tolerate was gone. His husband was gone. 

“Tyler, today’s not going to be easy, but it wasn’t supposed to be easy, that’s not why we’re doing this. Remember what Dr Wakefield said on Wednesday - this is an opportunity to cry your eyes out, but then once all the tears have been spilled, we can begin to think about what’s next for you in your life.”

How could she even dare suggesting he move on? 

“We will always love him, we will always remember him, but you’re 3 years deep into this bereavement with no sign of it letting up, and I can’t watch you spend the rest of your life crying in that bed.” Mom spoke softly and slowly, meaning Tyler could barely hear her over his hyperventilating whimpers - not that he wanted to be able to hear her. She was betraying the person she used to call her best friend. 

“It’s a big and scary event today, I know that, but we need to do something dramatic and powerful to force things to change.”  
“Fuck o-off!”  
“I know you’re scared, I know-“  
“GO!” Tyler cried out angrily, standing up and storming over to his bedroom door, slamming it in her face and then returning to his previous spot in hysterical gulps. 

Snot and tears coated his face and jaw, and it itched, but Tyler didn’t have the energy to care and just threw himself back onto his bed, cuddling on his side in a foetal position. 

The bed was a double yet he had nobody to share with, nobody to talk to, nobody. His whole life the only person who had ever seen through the twisted gnarly brambles of his mind and found something worthy of loving had been taken away from him, and in response the brambles had grown even thicker and Tyler knew he’d never be loved again. Destined to walk alone for the rest of his days. 

There was nobody in his life who wasn’t duty bound to be there. His mom and dad had no option but to provide him with a roof under which he could cry every day, and his siblings were allowed no choice but to come and visit him occasionally - even his therapist had long grown tired of him and his repetition and refusal to change, but Tyler couldn’t understand what was expected of him. Of course he said the same thing every week, of course he did the same thing every week, of course he made no effort every week - his husband was dead and nothing would ever feel okay again, regardless of how many more pills he was prescribed and breathing exercises he was taught. 

Josh was dead, Josh would always be dead, and Tyler missed him. He missed him, he yearned for him, he craved him, he desired him, he needed him. 

He needed to see his little smile one more time, he wanted to hear his gentle words, he longed to feel his thumb stroking his arm softly and continuously as he kissed the top of his head after a long day. 

Sometimes he thought about their wedding day. Ten times as often he thought about the way Josh’s hand used to slip across the mattress and reach out for him in his sleep every single night. 

“Kid? Can I-“  
“LEAVE! ME! ALONE!” Tyler begged, a raw crack a painful sign that he was screaming too much these days, but he didn’t care.   
“You’ve been alone all morning, now it’s time for you to come and be with us please,” Dad let himself into the bedroom regardless. 

Nobody ever gave him the space to mourn anymore. Instead they were always pestering him to come and sit at the table for dinner, or to go out into the garden for fresh air, but they didn’t understand that the abyss inside of him was draining him of all his motivation to the extent that he’d rather slip away than join them. They usually gave up sooner or later. 

“We need to head off pretty soon if we want to make it on time kiddo. Your mom suggested you might need some help with your necktie?” 

Mom had bought him a suit especially for the memorial. It was cheap and uncomfortable, and slightly too big, but Tyler had no intention of wearing it so it didn’t matter. He had the pants and the white shirt on, but they were crumpled and covered in snot from his morning of sobbing and rolling around his bed in agony. 

“How about your speech - have you finished it yet? Because, uh, because it turns out I don’t wear this suit very often, and I found my, um, I found my notes from the speech I gave at Josh’s first funeral in my pocket, if you, if you need some inspiration or help or whatever,” Dad lowered himself onto the corner of the bed. 

“It’s a really hard task to get going, I, uh, I’m acutely aware of that, but it’s because this isn’t one of those Shakespeare essays you could bash out during high school, this is your speech for your husband Ty, it’s special, a-and you want to do him justice, which I completely understand. You know Josh though, you know him better than anybody, he wouldn’t be upset or mad or anything like that if it goes a little wrong. I think the key points are just to say thank you to him for everything he did for you, and that you miss him, and maybe share one happy memory if you can tolerate that, but no more if you can’t manage it. It doesn’t need to be poetry, it just needs to be from the heart, yeah?”

Everything Dad was saying was an attempt to be helpful, though in reality it was salting the wounds on Tyler’s fragile heart. Yes, he had missed his husband’s first funeral, a fact he loathed being reminded of because it was the perfect representation of what a disappointing letdown he had been and continued to be to his life-partner. Then being reminded of what a kind and patient and forgiving man Josh had been just flared up his desperation to be with him once more, even though it was impossible without the escape of suicide. 

“Breathe kid, breathe, or else you’re gonna make yourself puke,” Dad murmured when the ongoing panic attack got increasingly violent. “Do you want another Valium? I know you had your max dose, but I’m sure even Dr Wakefield would understand if you needed one extra on the anniversary of his passing.”

He hated the word passing - it sounded so transient and reversible. The opposite was the truth, Josh was dead and his body was rotten and disintegrating. Sometimes he hallucinated the cadaver, inclusive of the putrid bloated flesh, in the midst of the decaying process. There was no going back. 

“Tyler, we don’t want to be late for Josh’s service, do we? So I need you to begin thinking about sitting up and talking to me please.”   
“I c-c-c-can’t-t,”  
“You can, you’re doing it now, just keep talking to me. What are you thinking, what are you feeling, what can I do to help? Anything, just talk to your Dad Ty, I’m right here.” He was trying to be encouraging but honestly he didn’t want to hear the answers. No parent truly wanted to hear their child beg for death yet again. 

“Great job in starting to get dressed, that’s really wonderful kiddo,” Dad’s expectations of him had plummeted hugely. “I’ve got some cuff links you can borr-“  
“I H-HAVE CUFFL-L-LINKS!”  
“Course you do son, course you do, I gave them to you on the morning of your wedding, I remember clear as day, but I meant if you wanted some different ones without the associated memories then I have plenty I-“  
“WHAT G-G-GOOD DOES A-AV-AVOIDING TRIGGERS DO IF YOU'RE G-GONNA MA-MAKE ME S-SPEAK AT HIS GR-GR-GRAVE?!!” He screamed furiously and hopelessly. 

“It’s always good to avoid triggers, always always, because the last thing we want to do it make you sick Tyler. The purpose of the memorial service today isn’t to trigger you or upset you unnecessarily, it’s to give you the opportunity to do what you couldn’t manage on the day of his funeral - to honour him and his memory, and to provide yourself with some closure.”

Everybody was under the impression that he wanted to shut the door on Josh, when in reality the opposite was true. He wanted more of Josh than he could ever have again. 

“It’s not saying goodbye, because today doesn’t mark his memory leaving us. His memory will always be with us, he will always be a part of this family, always be your husband and my son in law, always be important, but Tyler you haven’t been outside for a reason other than therapy in months. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t talk, you don’t wash, you don’t move. I’m worried about you kid, really worried, and I want you to use today as a turning point. Mom and Dad need you to recognise that your future needs you, your past doesn’t.”

“I c-c-c-can’t,”  
“You can’t want?” Dad shuffled closer to him in the bed.   
“I c-can’t d-do i-it!”  
“You can, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever known, and I say that with all sincerity. You’ve survived things I didn’t think you would, you’ve overcome things I never ever expected you to, and you’ve got the strength to do it again Tyler. Your psychotic breakdown, after Debby, I didn’t think you would ever recover from, but you did your time in hospital and then you came home and slowly but surely you pieced yourself back together. You moved out, you got married, you worked. I know you can do it again Ty, I know you can - I mean you’re already half the way there, you’re home from hospital, now you’ve got to do the tricky job of finding your feet again, but today is going to be a huge piece of that puzzle if only you engage with the process,”

Tyler hated a lot of things, especially the words: process, journey, story. He wasn’t on a journey, there was no destination, it was merely an endless struggle.

“It’s good to grieve, but you can’t let it stop you from living,”   
“C-c-can’t l-let i-it?? Dad I-I’m n-n-not in c-c-cont-trol!!”  
“Today is about taking back control, yeah? It’s about staring grief in the eye and taking a proactive step towards recovery. And I know you’re not going to wake up tomorrow feeling completely yourself again, but I really am hopeful that this is going to change things Ty,”  
“F-f-fee-feel-l-ling m-my-mys-self-f?? T-this is w-who I a-am n-now!”  
“It doesn’t have to be though. Please son, please, I know it’s hard but you need to dig deep and-“  
“H-hard? Y-y-you h-have n-n-no-no i-idea!” 

“I appreciate I don’t understand what you’re going though. Yes, I’ve lost someone that I would consider a son, but no, I am aware that I never loved him as deeply as you did, and still do. If it were Kelly, I bet I’d be in a similar state to you, she’s my whole world and it hurts me to even imagine her no longer being here, but after 3 years I would want somebody to offer me a hand out of the pit. That’s what we’re trying to do Tyler, we’re trying to help you. We’re not trying to make this harder or torture you or anything like that, we’re just trying to help.”

Tyler’s lungs were burning from hyperventilating and his throat pulsed painfully from the hacking sobs, but he couldn’t calm down without Josh. 

“P-pl-lea-please,”  
“Please? Please what son?” Dad stroked his back in what he thought was a soothing movement that actually made Tyler’s skin prickle.   
“D-d-don’t m-ma-make me g-g-go,”

Dad sighed. 

“Maybe a speech is too much to ask, so maybe we can waive that, but don’t you want to come and lay flowers with us? And Father Winston is going to say some prayers,”  
“Wh-wh-who c-caresss?!?! H-he’s d-de-dead D-Dad! H-he’s r-r-rotting!”  
“Who cares? I care, this means a lot to me. We’re honouring him and he deserves a whole lot of honour, doesn’t he? Please Tyler, even if you can’t do it for Josh, which I think is a shame, but please do this for your mother and me? Mom’s put a lot of work into organising today, made a big effort, and she really needs to see some improvement in you kid, because it’s tearing her up inside to see you like this all day every day.” 

“I c-c-c-ca-ca-can’t,”  
“Be honest with me, are you being stubborn? Or are you trying really hard and still can’t?”   
“I CAN’T!”  
“Breathe son, breathe,” Dad sighed again, still stroking back and forth.   
“P-pl-plea-ease, I, I, I’ll g-get s-sick, have, h-have an e-e-epis-sode,”  
“We don’t want you having an episode Ty, of course we don’t, and I see that you’re already very worked up and it wouldn’t take much to tip into psychosis, but-“  
“PLEA-EASE!” Tyler begged, throat raw, when he heard his father begin to argue the other angle. “P-please d-d-do-don’t m-ma-make me, n-not t-today.”  
“I understand that it being the anniversary makes it even harder, uh, so uh, so I’ll talk to Mom, see how open she is to maybe letting you rest today, rest and calm down, then maybe later this week we’ll go down to the cemetery to lay flowers and say a few words, and today can just be for the rest of the family.”

Even though it sounded like Tyler might have won the argument, he by no means felt like a winner. It didn’t change anything, not really - his husband was still dead. 

“You gonna be okay on your own for two ticks whilst I go speak to her? Then if she agrees, I’ll stay home with you, see that you get a cold shower to calm you down and we’ll think about having a nap, hey?”  
“H-h-he’s d-dead Dad, I c-can’t s-slee-sleep.”  
“Alright son, deep breaths, we’ll take things one step at a time. Let me go speak to Mom.”

Mom had gone to the memorial service with Jay, Zack and his wife Tatum, Maddy and her husband Will, and Tyler’s grandparents. They met with Josh’s old roommates, Jesse and Andrew, and his sister Ashley to give speeches and share stories and place flowers and say prayers at his grave, before going to the church so Father Winston could give a private sermon and lead more prayers. Afterwards all of Tyler’s siblings had come back to the house, the middle two with their partners, to spend the night despite the fact it was New Years Eve, each claiming they didn’t want to be apart. 

Tyler had stayed home with Dad and didn’t regret it, though that wasn’t to say that he felt any better after the burden of the memorial had been removed. Dad’s plan of a shower had been ignored and instead Tyler continued to sob hysterically for another few hours, fulfilling his own prophecy and having a psychotic episode in which Josh’s carcass had haunted him. 

He’d got so frantic and agitated that he’d punched through his wall again and cut his forehead by intentionally banging it against the corner of his closet again and tried to throw himself out of his window again, but eventually Dad managed to shove enough pills down his throat and pin him down hard enough that he couldn’t physically continue acting on his urges, and ultimately the huge doses pushed him into forced sleep. 

It wasn’t a restful sleep, it wasn’t a peaceful sleep, and after several hours locked into his horrifying nightmares, Tyler finally managed to break free of them and sat bolt upright in his bed, covered in sweat, gasping. His head wound had swollen up, bulging out of his hairline and beginning to seep blood again as he explored it with curious fingertips, and his wrists were bruised from his dad’s grip. Everything hurt. But everything hurt all the time. 

His curtains were open and the sky was dark, so Tyler guessed it was night. The whole house was quiet but it often was when he wasn’t sobbing. 

Back when Josh was alive and Tyler had the privilege to sleep at his side, it was Josh’s subtle purring breaths that kept him soothed throughout the long nights. It wasn’t quite a snore, more a sweet airy sound as his breath caught the edges of his mouth, but now Josh didn’t breathe and Tyler knew the soft parts of his cheeks and lips would have been long eaten by the saprotrophs breaking down his flesh. 

Josh’s love breathed such life into Tyler’s existence, and without it he was free falling.   
  
Despite spending most of his days closed up in it, Tyler hated his bedroom and before he’d even truly realised, his bare feet had carried him across the top floor and down the stairs. He was still wearing the suit pants and shirt, both hanging off his skinny frame, and the cheap fabric made a swishing swiping sound as his legs passed each other with every step, but Tyler wasn’t going to any lengths to keep quiet just to preserve his family’s sleep. 

How come they could all sleep? How did they find comfort amidst the suffering? Why didn’t Josh follow them into the realms of the night as well?

Because he wasn’t expecting it, the huge bouquet of white lilies on the kitchen counter scared the shit out of Tyler, pushing his heart rate up even higher than the baseline anxiety always did. In the dark they didn’t look like flowers, they looked like a Freddie Krueger-esque phantom, lurking in wait. 

The realisation that the shadowy outline was in fact Josh’s favourite flower hardly calmed Tyler down, and he found himself suddenly on the brink of tears yet again. 

Why did nobody understand? Who had the honest belief that a stupid fucking plant cutting could do anything close to healing the raw open wound on his heart? He craved their naïveté and innocence. It wasn’t even a wound, it was a gaping absence in his chest that left him paralysed and alone. He was so alone. 

With a swinging bat of his right arm, Tyler knocked the vase off the counter and it fell to the floor with a crash. Of course the noise would likely startle the rest of the house but he was beyond caring, and even with beautiful shards of glass produced by the shattered vase staring up at him, Tyler wasn’t tempted. He was too tired to put in the effort of slitting an artery with a sharp edge or inserting a small fragment somewhere in his body. Self harm like that would land him in the ER, which would trigger a psych eval, which would put him in Campbell unit for a short crisis stay yet again, and he was too tired for the bullshit when cutting didn’t even make him feel better. Nothing did and nothing would. 

Avoiding the puddle of water that was growing out of the mess he had made, Tyler walked away from the kitchen and instead headed to the back of the house, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and needing air. He didn’t pause to put shoes on as he unlocked the back door, not shutting it behind him, and stepped out into the backyard. 

His parents’ backyard was huge. The backyard that Josh and Tyler once shared was even bigger. As Tyler stood there, looking at the space illuminated by the half moon, he could remember Josh testing out his first ride-on lawnmower, going back and forth and round and round in circles as he figured out the steering with a giddy giggle, not caring as he carved the grass up. 

They could have had kids in that house, could have built swing sets into that garden, played catch on the lawn, but no. 

All of a sudden Tyler was overcome with the urge to do something, make a mark, have an impact on the land to reflect the impact that the last 3 years had had on his soul. Things had changed cataclysmically and irreversibly, and yet his parents’ backyard looked exactly the same as it did the night the flames swallowed Josh up on the slippy hill road. 

He wanted to plant a tree. 

He knew it wouldn’t make Josh come back, he knew it wouldn’t stop the hurting, he knew it wouldn’t change anything, but Josh had returned to dust and Tyler wanted the earth to show it. 

His dad’s shed was locked, supposedly to stop criminals stealing his expensive tools, but more realistically to stop Tyler slipping in and using a chainsaw to meet a rather messy end. However his parents had made the same mistake that they always did and had used Josh’s birthday as the padlock code, so it took Tyler no time at all to gain entrance to the wooden hut. 

With the first step in, Tyler immediately stood on a screw. Although the pain wasn’t particularly intense, it was enough to push tears down his cheeks, which he chose to ignore as he took another step forwards, looking around for something, anything, that could help. 

A spade was propped up against the corner of the shed and Tyler picked it up, feeling the weight of the heavy rusty head and wooden handle, and sniffed. Back at home, Josh had a spade that had never been used, still with a shine and a sticky label. Maybe, if, if only Tyler hadn’t worn him out so much that he drove off the road, maybe they would have planted trees together using that spade, maybe a tree to celebrate the birth of each of their children, just like Tyler’s own parents had done for him. Instead the spade was probably in storage, or sold at the garage sale his mom had done without his permission. He didn’t know, all he knew was Josh would never get to use it. 

He didn’t know the first thing about gardening but figured tree planting wasn’t rocket science, so Tyler walked up the grass, dew wetting his bare feet, until he got about a third of the way up the lawn. There were trees lining the fence but then the property line expanded outwards so the land turned outwards leaving a curve in the grass, and Tyler decided that was where he would plant Josh’s tree. 

With all his might, Tyler pushed the head of the spade into the grass and it glided through the wet soil, so he tossed aside the first sod brought up and dug again. 

As he swung, all he could imagine was the gravedigger who readied the plot for Josh. A hole, 6ft deep, Josh’s home. 

Mom had chosen the casket, mahogany with a pearl velvet interior. Tyler asked what suit he’d been buried in but Mom had said the mortician recommended not allowing a viewing because the burns were substantial, so he’d been put in a plain burial gown. Josh’s body had been mutilated and melted by the fire, and Tyler knew, he just knew, that he had been in intense pain before it finally killed him. He had suffered. 

He dug again and again, soon removing a significant amount of the loose topsoil and hitting the more compact earth, but the burning in his arms and shoulders was good and he continued as he hyperventilated. 

The funeral had been a small service with-

“Tyler? Tyler! What are you doing?!”  
“Go! Away!” He cried out gutturally at the silhouette, not knowing whether it was even real or not, continuing to dig and dig and dig. 

“Brother, look at me, it’s Zack.” Zack always called him brother when he thought he was hallucinating.   
“Leave me alone,”  
“Why are you out here? Why are you digging up the grass? It’s freezing, it’s the middle of the night, you’re not wearing shoes. Come on bud, let’s get you inside,” 

Tyler ignored him, tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks but smeared mud on his face by mistake, and continued digging. 

“Do you want me to get Mom and Dad? They got woken up too, they’re cleaning up the glass in the kitchen,”   
“Go,”  
“I’m not going anywhere Ty, please, look at me.” Zack pleaded and he caved, leaning on the spade handle to give him strength as he made reluctant eye contact. 

“What’s going on?”  
“I, I, uh, I,”  
“I’m listening,”  
“I want to plant a tree,”  
“You want to plant a tree? Okay,” he thought his big brother was crazy. “It’s 3am Ty, is now the time to be planting a tree?”  
“For Josh,” he managed to whisper.   
“Oh, ah, okay,” Zack suddenly understood. 

“Well look, if you want the tree to grow really tall then it needs Southern light exposure and here you’re gonna be in that tree’s shade, plus those established roots are gonna steal up all the space underground. If we go over there then there’s a little bit of a slope so water will run down, and it will be visible from your bedroom which would be nice, right?” 

Tyler didn’t know how to react, he just froze. His arms ached and a small bead of sweat ran down his back; the bruises on both his wrists made them feel weak and the head injury throbbed and his vision was swimming in dizziness and tears, and all he could see was his brother. 

“If this is a special spot, if you want the tree here we can put it here.” Zack backtracked, thinking he’d gone wrong, but Tyler abandoned the spade and let it fall to the ground as he took a few steps towards Zack before the younger swaddled him up in the tightest of hugs, clutching him close and not letting go. 

“He’s d-dead Z-Zack,”  
“I know bud, I know,” his voice was trembling too. “You’re allowed to be sad, you’re allowed to be completely fucking destroyed, but you’re not allowed to close your eyes to the rest of your life, you hear me?”  
“I c-c-can’t g-go on without h-him,”  
“You don’t have a choice Tyler. He, he’s gone, and he’s not coming back, but if you dare chase him to the other side then I swear to God I’ll kill you, okay?” Zack’s whisper had a fierce growl to the shake. “Please, don’t do it to me, don’t put me through that, my heart can’t take anymore. I already lost my brother in law, don’t take my big brother too.”  
“I c-can’t t-take a-anymore e-either! I’m t-tired!”

Zack didn’t reply straight away, just held him. 

“I know you are, but what about us? About Mom and Dad?Jay and Maddy? Me? This pain you’re feeling, this pain I know only a fraction of, please don’t put us through it too. We need you here Tyler, we need you alive,”  
“L-l-life is sh-shit!”  
“Yes it is, it’s shit, it’s fucking shit, but that can and will change.”   
“W-w-when-n?”  
“I’ve got no clue. Maybe this year, maybe next,” Zack sighed. “Call me selfish, maybe I am, but you have to fight this overwhelming obsession with death and the dead, and live amongst the living. Live with us, not with him.”

“I w-want t-to l-l-live w-with J-Josh.”  
“You can’t.” It was harsh yet true. “Stop convincing yourself it’s an option to be with him Tyler, because it’s not. He’s dead, he’s gone, and I forbid you from killing yourself. Being with Josh has to wait till the other side of old age, whereas the next 60 years contain a choice - either you stay in that bedroom, crying in that bed, or you step outside and you be with us Ty. We’re your family, and we’re not expecting you to be fine because we all know you’re not, but please, please, let us be around you. As long as you’re alone, your mind is with him.”  
“I w-want to be with h-him,”  
“And I wish I could find a way to make that happen, even for just a single conversation, but I can’t and no amount of your self-enforced isolation is going to change that.” 

Nothing Zack was saying was news to Tyler, yet every words was a twist of the dagger. 

“I m-miss him,”  
“I miss him too, so much, so fucking much,” Zack confessed against Tyler’s shoulder. “The crying in your room though Ty, that’s not how you remember him, that’s not how you honour him - it’s not what he would want, is it?”

Tyler pulled back a little and so Zack released him, meaning he could wipe his face with the white sleeve of his shirt. He was snotty and mucky and the shirt was ruined but he didn’t care. 

“Th-the t-tree,”  
“The tree, yeah, that’s an amazing idea bud, I’m really proud of you for coming up with it. It’s through small but specific actions that we include him in our lives, not by devoting every hour of every day to mourning him. 24 hours a day is too much, he wouldn’t want your whole life spent on him. Instead we need to try and condense this time spent thinking about him down and down, because that leaves room for an independent existence as well.”

“You m-make it s-sound so e-easy.” Tyler squeaked.   
“It’s not easy, it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do.”  
“I d-don’t wanna d-do it,”  
“What do you want to do instead then Ty? Spend your life in your room?”  
“I w-want t-to die!”  
“No.” Zack didn’t hesitate - not that it changed anything. “What would Josh say if you killed yourself?”  
“He w-won’t say a-anything! He’s dead!”

Zack ran his hand through his hair with a sigh, and Tyler noticed for the first time that he was dressed in pyjamas and slippers, with a navy robe on top. 

“At the memorial today, Ashley told a story ab-“  
“I don’t c-care,”  
“You don’t want to hear stories about him?”  
“He, h-he was my h-husband, I know all the s-stories,” Tyler crouched down and picked his spade back up again. 

“Alright fine, so, uh, why, why don’t you fill that hole back in and I’ll run to the shed and grab the other shovel so I can help you dig a new one over there.”  
“I can do it by m-myself.”  
“I want to help.”  
“Go b-back to bed Zack.”  
“If you want to dig then that’s okay, I get it might be important to you, but I’ll at least go get the grass seed to fill in this new gap in the lawn.”  
“I said go AWAY!” 

“Mom and Dad sent me out to bring you back inside. If you don’t come with me, they’ll come out instead.”  
“Good! See if I fucking c-care! Send them! S-Send Campbell! Send Cyg-Cygnet! Send the fucking police! I d-don’t care!”  
“I don’t understand brother-“ again with the use of the word brother, showing that Zack thought Tyler was acting crazy - but he wasn’t! He wasn’t!! 

“Why do you want me to send hospitals to come and get you? Do you want their help? Because we can arrange day patient or something,”   
“No!”  
“Day patien-“   
“Fuck off!” All of a sudden Tyler was holding the spade up in the air, way above his head, and started swinging it towards his little brother. He wasn’t even aware of his own actions until Zack cried out in fear and lunged out of the way, narrowly avoiding the heavy steel head that landed in the ground where his feet had just been. 

“Fucking Hell Tyler! Fucking Hell! Jesus!” He gasped for his breath, taking the gardening tool and holding it behind his back, stopping Tyler from having it. “You could have killed me!”  
“Give it back.”  
“No,”  
“Give it back!”  
“No! You’re going to seriously hurt someone!”  
“I’ll get the other one then,” Tyler made determined strides towards the shed but Zack rushed to stand in his way.   
“Stop it Tyler - DAD! DAD COME HELP!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really really appreciate some feedback, please. New chapter tomorrow


	2. Chapter 2

“Morning baby, morning, woah there, back down sweetheart, lay down,” Mom put her hand on Tyler’s chest as he tried to sit up immediately after waking in her bed, and his brain was too groggy to rebel so he fell back against her pillows without argument. 

“Take it steady. You were in restraint for a while last night so you need to rest for me, alright baby?”  
“Re,” his voice stopped unexpectedly, which Tyler soon figured out was post-screaming hoarseness. “Restraint?”  
“Yeh sweetheart, Dad, Zacky, Jay and me had you in a face down 4 point restraint for about an hour, then Dad kept your hands restrained for another hour till you fell asleep. You’re probably feeling quite bruised because you weren’t complying and fought a fair bit.”

“W-why?” Tyler couldn’t remember.   
“You weren’t being very safe darling,” she stroked his face. “You got up in the night and smashed the flowers we saved for you to give to Josh, then you went out in the yard and started digging holes and when Zacky tried to bring you in to stop you catching a chill, you threw a shovel at him before trying to get to the tools in the shed to hurt yourself, so Dad had no choice but to protect you and everyone else by restraining you.”

“I wanted to plant a tree,” it was coming back to him.   
“You told Zack the same thing,” Mom’s hand cupped his jaw softly.   
“Scarlet Oak,”  
“We can do that baby, absolutely we can do that, but it’s better that I go to the garden centre first and try and pick up a potted nursery plant, then together we can figure out the right location and the right size hole and plant it together, rather than going free-reign at 3am.”  
“Sorry,”  
“You don’t have to apologise about the tree sweetie.” Mom sighed. “But many a little apology to your brother for throwing the spade might be nice.”

Tyler wanted to roll over in the bed, his whole body aching, but his limbs felt like lead. 

“Did, did, did you give me something? Sedative?”  
“We did sweetheart, yeah. We actually went a little over your max dosage because you were so unwell, so you can’t have any more PRN for the next 6 hours at least, and even then we need to tread softly to protect that liver of yours.”  
“What if I get sick again?” Tyler knew he didn’t have control over the waves.   
“We’re going to do everything we can to reduce the risk of that happening and keep you calm, but if things escalate nevertheless then we’ll have to call an ambulance to take you down to the hospital where they have access to different drugs and better restraint equipment than just your family’s hands.”  
“Mom no! They’ll strap me down! They’ll strap me down!! Mom!”  
“Sweetheart sweetheart breathe, remember what we said - if you keep calm then it won’t have to get to that point, just take a breath. It all begins and ends with a breath. Deep breaths.”  
  
The added pressure of not having access to meds to knock him sideways when things got out of control was daunting, and Mom telling him to stay calm was definitely not helping him to stay calm. 

“Going to the hospital is not the end of the world baby. It’s a traumatic time of the year for you, Momma understands why you’re struggling so much with harmful and aggressive behaviours, and the hospital would too. They’d keep you for 72 hours then I’d bring you home again,”  
“No! No! No! No!” Tyler couldn’t breathe.   
“Baby I promise I’d bring you home again, I wouldn’t let them put you in a long term admission. 3 days, just to calm down-“  
“No!”

“I love you so much Ty,” Mom sighed as she laid down next to him on the bed, moving his heavy weak body for him so that she could hold him against her chest and whisper to the top of his head. “I love you so much, and because of that I need to do everything in my power to protect you. Of course if you’re coping at home then we can stay at home, but if things get bad then I need to take the necessary steps to continue protecting you. I’m sorry, because I know that’s not what you want, but what you want - to be with Josh - it just, it, it can’t happen baby, and I know you don’t see any other option as good enough, but Momma’s gotta be your sensible decision maker until the day comes when you can find the place you have in this world, okay? I’m gonna make all the decisions for you, and I think maybe we might need hospital if you have another bad episode today, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of or anxious about baby,” 

“...I do understand your point of view Mr Joseph, but in return you must try and see this from my standpoint. Today marks the third time in 4 weeks that your son has been admitted to my ward and put under a 72 hour psych hold. With 4 point restraints, he needs monitoring and a full set of obs taken every 15 minutes, and we simply do not have the staffing to facilitate this on a regular basis. It’s beginning to take away from other patients that need to see my nurses, who are instead occupied with your son’s care.”

“My son is a very sick boy and he deserves care just as much as the next patient.”  
“Care yes, I agree, but the care of a specialist psychiatric facility, not a general hospital.”

“Listen here lady-“  
“Chris, don’t,”  
“No, I need her to hear my words! Listen, my son has been through enough, okay? His husband died exactly 3 years ago yesterday, he’s in Hell every single day without him, and the last thing he needs is to be transferred to Cygnet fucking PICU. We have told you this over and over and over again - he has a care plan which has been signed off by Dr Charles Wakefield at Campbell psych, and it says that in a crisis we should bring him here, then if and only if the crisis extends beyond 72 hours should we consider a transfer. He’s only been here 6 hours so will you just give him a fucking chance to calm down before you cart him off??!”

“Mr Joseph I’ve been nothing but respectful to you, your son, and your family. I appreciate this is a difficult time and, again, I am sorry to hear about your son in law, but if you feel that’s an appropriate way to address a member of staff then I will have security escort you off the property and your son transferred to Cygnet PICU with immediate effect, understood?”  
“Chris, I know you’re trying to look out for Ty, please don’t accidentally make things worse for him by stepping too heavily,” Mom whispered, and Dad grunted unsatisfied. 

“We appreciate everything you’ve done for our boy Doc, we value the service you provide so much and it’s been a great comfort to know there’s a team who can help control him and keep him safe when we can’t, but I also understand the pressure it’s applying to you as a ward who aren’t necessarily trained to manage him and his needs, and for that I can only apologise. We’re in the same boat as you, we don’t want to be here, we don’t want him to need this, we don’t want to be in this position, but all I’m asking is a little more of your patience? Please? Can he stay here for the remainder of his 72 hour hold? Then once we’re discharged, I’ll be straight on the phone to his psych team and we’ll work out a better crisis management plan than this for the future,”  
“He can stay for the rest of his 72 hour section, but whether he’s stable or not, he will be leaving my care in 66 hours and if he’s still distressed then I will be referring him to Cygnet.”  
“I understand, thank you,”

There were footsteps and the sound of the door swinging, so Tyler supposed she left. 

“Cow,” Mom muttered spitefully.   
“Stupid cow as well. Denying care to a psych patient? Seriously? We should sue her for neglect and discrimination,”   
“You find the evidence and I’ll sign the forms,” she sighed in agreement at her husband’s comment. 

Tyler’s mouth was dry, his tongue like sandpaper and a horrible tangy bitterness coating his teeth, and in spite of how dry his mouth felt, it was filling with a little pool of spit that he couldn’t seem to swallow. From the sticky crackle, he could tell he’d been drooling, the stuff running down the edges of his lips and dripping off his chin onto the hospital gown. It was humiliating, but there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop the next trickle beginning, his throat painfully stuck frozen. 

“Oop, don’t worry kiddo, Dad’s got your back,” his father must have noticed and quickly pulled a handkerchief from somewhere, dabbing his chin dry for him.   
“His eyes are opening again, gah, I hope they don’t get stuck half open like the last time he was this sedated, I was so sure he was gonna get blisters on his eyeballs,”  
“Maybe he’s trying to wake up,” Dad suggested rightly.   
“Wake up? The amount of drugs they gave him, it’ll be a freaking miracle if he’s even close to awake in 2 days time when they’re trying to give him the boot,”  
“Well if his eyelids are still flickering in a few minutes then I’ll get the nurse to bring some tape to help him keep them closed,” 

Tyler didn’t like the sound of tape on his eyes, so tried to reach out to his mom, alert her somehow that he was in fact awake in spite of the high potency horse tranquilliser they’d almost definitely darted him with, which was when he made another discovery. 

His hands were tied down. 

His hands were tied down, and his feet too. He was tied down to the hospital bed, no doubt using the harness with locked cuffs that gave him 0 movement or chance of freedom. The worst part? He wasn’t even surprised at this point. He’d become so used to finding himself in a hospital bed, wrists and ankles strapped down for the safety of himself and others, that it no longer alarmed him. 

If he was completely honest, the restraints even gave him a small amount of relief, because they came with the understanding that he was at breaking point and last resorts should be taken, which meant he’d continue to receive a shit ton of medication for the next few days, so he might finally get a chance to forget it all for a moment. Those haziest of hazy days were the only chance he got to forget. 

“Have you called Dr Wakefield?”  
“Spoke to Ryan on his personal number. He’s not working today or tomorrow but he’s eager to assist in anyway, whether that be coming here or arranging something with Campbell or, yeah, anything we might need. I told him not to work on his days off but if anything changes that I’d call him to let him know. As for Charles, no reply as of yet but he’s a busy man, I’m sure he’ll get back to us before the end of the day.”

“I think we need to sit down with him at some point, take a moment to properly assess where we’re at.” Dad said with that tired tone of his.   
“Agreed. The, uh, Josh’s memorial hardly went as planned, and as much as I want to believe he’s only flaring up so much recently because it’s the anniversary, I also don’t think he’s going to be calming down any time soon,“  
“No me neither. I know we said no more long term admissions and what’s best for him is to be around family, but we also need to question what’s best for the family, and I think we could all do with a little time and rest to make sure we’re able to be the best versions of ourselves for him.”   
“Maybe just a couple weeks inpatient might be good, 6, 8 weeks max,” he suggested quietly.   
“He’s gonna be mad at us but I agree we could all benefit from a little respite. 4 weeks might make a good compromise,”  
“We’ll see.” 

There was a weight to Tyler’s head, chemically pushing him back into the pillow so strongly that even when he strained with all his might, he couldn’t twist to see either of his parents. All he could see through the tiny slit of his heavy eyelids was the repeating pattern of his gown. 

“He’s getting too skinny again,” Dad sighed under his breath.   
“If he somehow makes it out of this without needing to be transferred, we need to try that high fat high sugar diet Josh used to put him on again or else Charles is gonna have him tubed and we both know how that will go down.”  
“Secret’s adding butter to literally everything, right?”  
“Yeh, I think at one point he was making him hot chocolates that were basically half a bar of chocolate, half a stick of butter, and half a cup of cream.”  
“Whatever gets the calories in,”

“Do you remember when he had that grilled cheese phase?”  
“Oh god yeah, what was he, 12? 13? And all he ate for like a solid month was grilled cheese,”  
“I tried to sneak a piece of tomato in one, just to give him maybe a hint of some kinda vitamin, and he threw this massive strop and refused to talk to me for a good few hours,”  
“Gah, my strong willed boy,” Mom chuckled sadly, then suddenly Tyler felt his chained hand being squeezed. 

“Do you think he’ll ever get better Chris?”  
“I think he’ll get better than this, I don’t think he’ll ever be as well as he was.”  
“Yeh, I, I think my expectations are still too high. A part of me is expecting him to soften, and I think realistically he might always be this rough and jagged,”  
“Maybe it’s hard to see in this moment, but actually he’s doing a lot better than he could be. At least he talks to us sometimes,” Dad pointed out.   
“He’s talking sometimes, and his hallucinations have been far better than in times gone by,”  
“Far far better, he’s going whole chunks of time without any at all now, as far as I’m aware at least. We’re not at rock bottom,”

The room went silent for a moment. 

“He’s strapped down to a hospital bed, drugged to the extent that he can’t even close his own eyes, and this isn’t his rock bottom. What does that say about his life Chris? What does that say about his chances of having a future that holds anything but more pain?”  
“They’re two entirely separate points; he’s struggled, we both know he’s struggled from near enough Day 1, and I think we can both agree that’s he’s struggled more than most will ever even be able to comprehend, let alone handle, but I don’t think that necessarily has to mean anything in regards to his future. He’s shown us he can make remarkable recoveries before, who’s to say this time is any different?”  
“Me, I’m saying this time is different, I’m saying this time he doesn’t have Josh.”  
“He has us. We can be enough.” Dad told her without hesitation. 

“Sometimes I just question what we’re trying to push him towards, you know?”  
“No, can you explain what you mean for me sweetheart?”  
“I just don’t know what to expect from him and I don’t want to be pushing him to get to a place he can’t reach, because all that will do is crush my heart and make him feel like a failure for things beyond his control. Maybe this is as good as he’s ever going to get?”  
“Maybe it is, I have hope that it isn’t, but I think I’d be able to make peace with it if this is who he is now.” He said warmly, however Mom’s lack of response suggested she wasn’t confident she’d accept his current form as the end product. 

“I worry about everything, but right now I’m worried about who’s going to take care of him as we get older and weaker? I could tell, last night, I could tell you were struggling to hold on when he was really thrashing. We’ll always love him, I’m, I’m not sure we can always look after him Chris,”   
“Maybe he’ll find someone,”  
“He doesn’t need just someone, he needs the one, and he already found him and lost him. I don’t think there will ever be another now,”

“I got you Ty,” Dad avoided the question momentarily to wipe Tyler’s chin as the next strand of drool escaped his numb lips. 

“Sometimes I imagine Ryan taking care of him when we’re not around,”  
“Ryan? He’s straight,”  
“You assume, but anyway, I don’t mean in a sexual relationship, I mean as a care provider. They’re already managing to juggle the dynamic with being friends, Ty seems to respect him and genuinely connects with him, I don’t know, maybe it’s worth considering trying to hire him to be a live-in carer when we reach the point where we don’t feel physically capable of doing this anymore,”  
“Ryan has a wife and a daughter, and a good varied career at Campbell-“  
“We have a son who needs someone, Chris.”   
“And until he finds them, he has us.” 

“What if I’m not enough? What if I’ve never been enough?”  
“Oh Kelly, oh darling,” Tyler couldn’t see anything at all, the slither of vision sneaking under his swollen eyelids becoming nothing but a black tingling blur, but knew his dad had stood up to hug his wife as she began to cry. Tyler knew that sound well. 

“You’re more than enough, you’re the best mother-“  
“L-look at him Ch-Chris! H-he’s c-covered in s-scars,”  
“He’s had OCD as long as he’s been able to talk, he’s been anxious since he was born, been bullied, had to contend with accepting his sexuality, struggled with his faith, got violently attacked by a homophobe and got a serious head injury, lost his best friend to a car accident, had his boyfriend disappear, developed psychosis, battled addictions, got isolated from his family in a borderline neglectful facility, and as if that wasn’t enough, he lost his husband. I put it to you that it would be impossible for anybody to survive all of that without a few scars along the way, and the fact Tyler’s depended on self harm to cope holds absolutely no indication of your competency as a mother. You are the best mother Kel, the best mother, and he’s lucky to have you.“

Tyler had dribbled down his front but didn’t mind that his father’s attention had turned to comforting his mom. 

“There’s nothing more you could have possibly given him. His entire life you’ve dedicated your heart and soul to protecting him, and there is nothing you could have done to stop him getting sick, you hear me? You go above and beyond for him every single day, and it’s not your fault that he’s ill. If it was possible to love a mental illness away then you would have cured him, but it doesn’t work like that darling, I’m sorry, it just doesn’t. I wish I understood why God chose for him to be afflicted, I suppose some things will forever be beyond our understanding, however one thing I know for certain is that you are the greatest mom for Tyler in the whole world, and the last thing you should be questioning is how vastly you’ve improved his live.”

“It’s just,” she stopped to gasp. “I miss him,”  
“Josh?”  
“Yeh, e-every second of every d-day, and I m-miss how safe he ma-made Ty feel. I want him to f-feel that safe again, I want him to trust us to ca-catch him like he trusted J-Josh to. Right now he’s scared, so sc-scared, and I don’t know how to make him f-feel safe and secure a-again,”   
“I think we just have to be here Kel, really that’s all we can do, be here for him whilst he works through this internally. As much as the external factors can support and nurture the process, ultimately what needs to happen is within his mindset and there’s nothing we can do to speed that along,” 

Tyler’s head was spinning and pounding, getting heavier and heavier. 

“He had a really good idea about the commemorative tree though, I don’t think we gave him enough credit and praise and encouragement at the time; was digging a ditch in the middle of the night and trying to cave Zack’s head in a particularly wonderful moment? No. But is this step of him acknowledging that Josh has gone and wanting to honour him and make a physical mark in his memory potentially a very good thing? I think yes! I think this could be a real turning point for him, just like we wanted from the memorial service, this tree planting could serve as an ounce of closure for him,”  
“We g-gotta let him t-take the lead this time. The m-memorial wasn’t what he w-wanted so it was n-never gonna work. He w-wants to do this for Josh, now we h-have to help him make it happen,”  
“Should I pull up the number for the garden centre on my phone? See if they have any Scarlet Oak saplings in stock that we could reserve?”  
“Yeh, but, um, but first pl-please find a n-nurse to tape his eyes clo-closed? And wipe his f-face for him,”


	3. Chapter 3

“Careful, steady, steady sweetheart, big step up, you got it,” Mom was holding his arm firmly, helping him inside the house whilst Dad grabbed the overnight bag from the trunk and locked up the car. 

Even though the worst affects of the drugs were wearing off, they still left him groggy and slightly out of it, plus being tied down to the bed for 60 of the 72 hours he’d been detained for meant his legs felt simultaneously stiff and jelly like, bailing and buckling under him. He appreciated having his mom there to keep him level. 

“And down,” she guided him onto the couch in the front room, “you wanna lie down baby?”  
“Mmm,” he was exhausted in spite of being contained to a bed for three days.   
“Here ya go, pop your head on that and I’ll pull your shoes off,” Mom handed him a pillow which immediately he flopped down to the left on, meanwhile she crouched and undid the Velcro on his sneakers - he wasn’t allowed laces in case he tied ligatures with the strings - then lifted his legs up onto the couch for him as well. 

Without needing to ask, she reached inside the ottoman and pulled out his favourite fluffy blanket, shaking it out until it was full-size before throwing it over him, taking care as she tucked it under his chin, pecking his cheek whilst she was there. 

“Do you want some water?” Mom kept her voice gentle but still he winced, shaking his head no. “Alright baby, just have some quiet time, yeah? We can turn the television on a bit later if you’d like, but first I think you should try to relax, maybe have a nap if you feel like it, and we’ll take it from there, hey?”  
“Ok,”

“Son, I’m popping everything from the hospital bag straight in the laundry, do you-“  
“Hoodie,”  
“Yeah that’s what I was gonna say, here you go,” Dad stuck his hand into the duffel bag with enough supplies for a 72 hour camp out at his bedside, pulling out a simple black hoodie and handing it over to him, which Tyler immediately sniffed and then cradled close to his chest. 

It was Josh’s hoodie. It didn’t smell like him anymore, it hadn’t for years, but Tyler still didn’t want to risk washing it and damaging the already thinning material. 

Despite there being another sofa and an armchair in the room, Mom chose to sit down on the floor in front of Tyler’s knees, staying close to him, understandably not trusting him to look after himself yet. That was fair. He didn’t completely trust himself either, sometimes his hands would do things without his consult, suddenly punch walls or scratch skin without his brain telling them to. Of course sometimes his brain did tell them to, but it could be frustrating when he was genuinely trying to stay safe and they got away from him, so it was reassuring to have his mom close enough to stop those harmful hands of his if they got any ideas. 

“I want a doughnut,” his voice was husky. He didn’t actually want a doughnut, but they were the highest calorie food he could think of that didn’t also make his stomach feel funky, and he knew if he didn’t start trying to gain weight soon, his parents would have no choice but to hospitalise him with an NG tube again. 

“A doughnut? Okay baby, okay, Momma will get you a doughnut, um, we could send Dad out to pick some up from a store, or I could make my recipe but I’d need you to either go upstairs or outside with Dad because I don’t feel comfortable with you being close to the kitchen whilst I’ve got hot oil, so what would you prefer? Store or home-made?”   
“I wanna stay with you Mom,”  
“Alright baby, when Dad’s done with the laundry, we’ll send him out for them,” she nodded. “Good communication with me sweetheart, really good job, well done,”

His whole body ached. He had bruises all over, some from himself, some from when his family had fought to pin him down, some from the IVs, some from the cuffs, all accumulating to the point where his body felt mushy and it hurt to lie in any position, but cuddled around Josh’s hoodie was the most comfort he could find in moments like these. 

He was tired. 

He felt like shit. 

“Can I get anybody some late lunch?” Dad returned, keeping his voice quiet as well.   
“Ty actually just requested a doughnut, so if you don’t mind, could you pop and grab a couple? He likes the simple glazed rings, nothing too fancy, no cream or anything,”  
“Oh sure, yeah, that sounds delicious. Since I’m heading out, I could also pick up some other pieces, so any other special requests Ty? Doritos? Red Bull? I could go through any of the fast food drive throughs?”

Tyler was too tired to respond. 

“I think we’re alright love. We’ve got Doritos in the cupboard and we should probably wait till everybody’s nice and calm and regulated before we introduce caffeine into the mix, but if you could pick up some milk and bread, and grab me a jelly doughnut then I’ll love you forever,”  
“You’ll love me forever either way,” Dad laughed, winking at her. “Gimme 20 minutes and I’ll be back, armed with goodies,”  
“Thanks darling,”  
“Call me if there’s any problems, alright? Stay safe Ty,”

It hadn’t been a scheme to get his mom alone, although the bad part of his brain did make note of it. His mom was amazing with her words and with her hugs and with her attitude, but when it came to the physicality of Tyler’s episodes, she was no match. If he decided to try and hurt himself right now, he’d almost definitely succeed. 

Not today though, today he was tired. 

“Can we cuddle?”  
“Baby, that is the thing I dream of hearing, absolutely we can cuddle,” a honest smile lifted her cheeks. 

His head was heavy, so incredibly heavy, but he used all his might to lift it up from the pillow and sink his feet into the carpet, turning himself upright and making space for his mom to sit down next to him. As soon as she was by his side, he curled up against her, letting her pull him closer, cradling him as he cradled the hoodie. 

“I love you my brave handsome boy,” she nuzzled against him. “I love you so much,”  
“Love you,”  
“I’m so lucky to have you, sweet angel,”

Her hand in his hair was familiar, comforting. 

“I’m, I, I’m sorry,”   
“You’re sorry? You’ve got nothing to be sorry about baby, none of this is your fault,”  
“I ruined his memorial,” the word was clumsy in his mouth.   
“No you didn’t Tyler. I attended and it was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, I loved every second of it and every single person there was thinking about him, remembering him, honouring him. You didn’t disrupt it by making the choice to stay home, nothing was ruined,”

Tyler felt like crying but his face was frozen, numb, empty of any expression.

“I regret not going.”  
“We can host another memorial for him whenever you like, you hear me? It doesn’t have to be a significant date, whenever you’re ready, we’ll do something of your choice in his memory that you feel comfortable participating in,” Mom was treading lightly, keeping her voice steady and soft. “You couldn’t come because you weren’t well Ty, you’re not well. If you’re wishing you’d gone because you think he’d be disappointed, it would be good to remind yourself just how compassionate and empathetic and understanding he was. He always advocated for you to prioritise your own well-being, so in a way you were honouring him by staying home,”

“I hallucinated his animated dead body,”  
“Today?”  
“Day of the memorial,”  
“Dad suspected you had,” she sighed, giving him a little squeeze. “Was it nice to see him?”   
“He’s always burnt when he comes now, burnt or decomposing, I, I miss being able to look at his face,”  
“I’m so sorry Ty, um, do you think looking at old photos might refresh your mental image of him and prompt the episodes to come in his finest form? You know, just, just remind yourself what he looked like?”  
“I remember what my husband looked like Mom.” Tyler said, wanting to sound sure, even though he wasn’t entirely positive on the minor details if he was honest with himself. 

“We’re gonna help you get better,”  
“What if I can’t get better?”  
“Then we’re gonna find you better coping methods to help you manage the symptoms you’re stuck with,” Mom said without a quiver of doubt.

“I feel angry,” he knew he didn’t sound it, his exhausted voice devoid of any passion. “I feel really angry,”  
“At us? For having you detained and restrained?”  
“No, I know I needed that, I’m angry at Josh.”  
“Josh? Can I ask why?”  
“Because he left me Mom! He left me here,”

She inhaled sharply, like that one had touched a nerve, and she took a moment to press her lips to his head. 

“I keep waiting for that moment when I wake up and this was all just a shitty bad dream, and he’ll be there next to me in bed and he’ll pull me close and help me breathe for what feels like the first time in years but is actually just a single bad night, and I’ll get to touch him, kiss him, tell him how much I love him and hear him say those words back to me one more time, but that’s never gonna happen, is it? He’s gone.”

“You are going to get so much time with him, the rest of eternity with him by your side, but until Heaven’s ready for you, I need you by my side down here Ty,”  
“You know I don’t believe,”  
“Just because you don’t believe, doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” she whispered. “I respect your point of view, in fact I can completely understand why you’ve lost your faith again, but I’m just telling you what brings me comfort,”

“If the one thing that brings you comfort is a lie, what hope is there in me ever finding peace?”   
“I didn’t say that is the only thing that brings me comfort, lots of other things do as well, principally this family I’m so lucky to have surrounding me,”  
“We were gonna start a family,”  
“I know it didn’t work out in the end, but the day you two told me about filing the first stage of the adoption paperwork was and still is in the top 10 days of my life,” 

“I’ve had all the best days of my life already. Nothing life can offer me will ever top what I had with Josh, and, and it’s really hard to find reasons to keep on going when I know everything else will only be a disappointment.”  
“Baby I think if you’re searching for more days with Josh then you will be disappointed with what you find. However if we work really really hard to shift your mindset from being occupied with the memory of him to one more open to growth beyond him, life could hold far more potential joy.”

“You’re telling me to forget him,”  
“No,”  
“You’re telling me to move on,”  
“No I'm not,”  
“You’re telling me to start fresh and leave my husband behind, wash my hands clean of the only man who could ever see through my crazy and love me, to abandon him, to discard-“  
“Tyler listen to me, I am not saying any of that, not at all. Having a future doesn’t rewrite over your history. Letting yourself look forward shows no disrespect to your past. You can’t find hope in tomorrow whilst hiding in yesterday. You love your husband and you miss your husband and this fucking hurts, but you don’t have to condemn yourself to a lifetime of pain and misery because you think that’s what Josh deserves.”

“Don’t make it sound like Josh wants this for me.”  
“Josh doesn’t want this for you, that’s exactly what I’m saying baby. Your way of mourning him and honouring him is making you sick, I am sure he would prefer you allowed yourself to heal, even if that means releasing how tight you’re clinging onto him.”  
“I don’t understand what you mean, Mom,”  
“I mean your grief has become synonymous with your relationship with Josh, and you think if you stop grieving - meaning if you stop torturing yourself with the horrific memories of what happened to him - then that signifies you leaving Josh behind. What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t have to be that way, you can still love him and still miss him, without those feelings shredding you from the inside.”

“How?”  
“By working towards acceptance. Accept he’s gone, accept there’s nothing you can do to change that, accept the fundamental changes that’s made within you, accept this is going to hurt for a while, accept that sometimes bad things happen for seemingly no reason, accept-“  
“I feel like I do accept all that Mom, I do, but I still can’t breathe,”  
“I think you know all of that, which isn’t the same as accepting it. Do you remember that book I read on grief last year?”  
“Which one?”  
“The one with the purple cover, I still have them all in my room so you’re more than welcome to sift through them, but that purple one said something amazing which was acceptance is about embracing the present in order to shape the future. That’s exactly what you need lovebug, that’s your next step, that how we get you from point A to point B, and I know you can do it.”

“I, I just don’t, um, I don’t think I can ever make peace with him being gone,”  
“That’s not what I’m asking of you baby, I haven’t made peace with it either, I’m not okay with my best friend and son-in-law being torn away so soon, so young,” Mom had tears leaking down her cheeks but they were ignored. “What’s shifted for me is facing up to the reality that it can’t be changed. I could cry every hour of every day for the rest of my life, but it’s not gonna bring him back, and I asked myself whether Josh would want me to waste my life fighting the unwinnable fight to get back what’s been lost, or whether he would be prouder of me for picking myself back up and summoning what little strength was left, and using that strength to carry on. That’s what he would want for me, and baby I know that’s what he’d want for you,” 

She was rocking him slightly, a gentle sway from side to side, a soothing sensation that loosened the tension locked up in his every inch, helping him relax into her arms. 

“I miss him,”  
“I miss him, and I miss how you were him,” Mom confessed.   
“I miss how I used to be too,” Tyler’s voice cracked. “I don’t, I, I don’t like who I am anymore Mom.”  
“Oh baby,”

His chest felt heavy, heavy like his head was heavy, and tight, really tight. 

“I don’t want to be vicious, or cold, or cruel, or any of the things that I know I’ve been, I’m just, I, I, I, I don’t know who I am. I’m lost, Mom. My only anchor snapped and I'm being relentlessly tossed around by these huge crashing waves and I feel like I’m constantly on the brink of drowning and-“ he’d started talking too quickly to get enough air in.   
“Sweetheart, take a deep belly breath,” 

He did, then gulped. 

“I know exactly who you are. You’re my son. Sometimes you’re my son who’s snappy and sometimes you’re soppy and sometimes you’re sweet; you can be harsh and bitter and passionate and aggressive and stubborn as all hell, and you are my son through all of it. Regardless of your mood or mindset, you are my son, and maybe the smaller details of your identity beyond a major trauma are still up in the air, but that’s okay because you’ll always have your roots firmly planted in your place in this family. We can be your anchor, okay? When you don’t know who you are, look to us and find yourself within this family who love you so dearly.”

“You can do it kiddo, the key is to be confident with it, just take it, tilt it, pull the pot off and pop it straight in the pit.”  
“How, um, where, where do I hold it?”  
“Just here,” his dad demonstrated how to grip the tree sapling.   
“Should I wear gloves?”  
“You can if you’d like to but you don’t need to. It’s your choice.”  
“I’m, um, I, I, I’d like to, I’ll get them, and, and I just need to go get something else,”  
“Do you want me to come with you?” Mom offered.   
“I’ll be quick,” Tyler didn’t answer her question, jogging back towards the house, running straight past the shed where Mom kept her gardening gloves and instead racing past the living room where his brothers were sat talking and galloping up the stairs 2 at a time until he got to his room. 

He had a lot of Josh’s stuff. 

His parents sometimes tried to pry pieces away from him, claiming living waist-height in his belongings was only making it harder to find his feet, however Tyler had already lost too many possessions whilst he was in hospital due to the ruthlessness of his family when they packed up Josh and Tyler’s house and sold it onto another family, so he wasn’t about to let anything else slip through the net. 

With that being said, he’d put a great deal of thought into how he wanted to ensure the tree they were planting always belonged to Josh, and ultimately decided he could sacrifice a little thing as long as he knew it was safe, woven into the roots of the oak. 

He was shaking as he dropped down onto his knees and opened the bottom drawer of his chest, digging around and clearing the junk until he found the shoebox he wanted. 

Inside he kept the smallest and most precious memories of all. Keepsakes he never wanted to part from. In there he kept Josh’s cross necklace and wedding ring, both miraculously and painfully salvaged from the crash, and the keys to their home, alongside post it notes Josh sometimes left Tyler, some mundane reminders to go to appointments, others random compliments he’d discover in a moment of need, all of them curled and faded. He kept Josh’s hand written recipe book, and his Bible, and a few letters he’d sent when Tyler was in hospital, including the Christmas card he’d written him when he didn’t know he was home from Cygnet at the time. One letter, the letter Josh had written Tyler about grieving Debby, that letter was kept out of the box and in Tyler’s bedside drawer. He kept that one closer. Also in the shoebox was their marriage certificate and several Polaroids, and finally, just what Tyler had been looking for, the coin he had proposed with all those years ago. 

Josh had found the half dollar on the ground the very first time they’d ever gone anywhere except for school together, and upon reading it was from 1891, curious, they’d raced home to to Tyler’s dad’s computer and found out it was worth at least 200 times its face value. Without hesitating, Josh gifted it to Tyler, who kept it in a special pocket in his wallet for years until the time came to propose. Going against tradition, he hadn’t proposed with a ring but the coin, and of course Josh had said yes, so the coin took on a whole other layer of meaning. 

Today Tyler determined it was appropriate to give their special coin an extra special new home. Away from the warmth of the bedroom, returned to the ground, just as it’s true owner had been 3 years ago. 

He hoped somehow Josh would feel reunited with the coin that had done so much to unite them as couple if he buried it. He hoped marking Josh’s tree would give him a thread of connection to his lost husband. He hoped his family wouldn’t take one look and haul him back to the hospital once they heard his somewhat irrational plan. 

“Ty?? You okay?” Jay called out as Tyler ran back down the stairs and out into the yard, clutching the 50 cent piece in his sweaty palm. He didn’t reply. 

It had rained at some point whilst he was in hospital, meaning the ground was particularly muddy and, upon reflection, there was a very high possibility he’d just tracked footprints all through the house. His mother would care, he wouldn’t. 

“I already got the gloves baby,” Mom waved them when she saw him taking a detour towards the shed, saving him the trip, meaning he could go straight to the shallow pit they’d let him dig. 

“Where’d you go champ? Or did you just need a second?” Dad asked gently.   
“Just inside, um, can I do this by myself please?”  
“Is it alright if Mom and I wait by the door? We need to keep an eye on you,”  
“Over there, really far over there, so you can’t hear,”  
“We’ll give you some space, course we will baby,” Mom smiled sadly at him, like she so often did. 

“Remember, hold it here, tilt so it’s easier to pull the pot off, stick it in the ground and then cover it back up with the soil, no higher than this tape, yeah?”  
“Yeah,”  
“Any questions?”  
“No,”  
“And don’t worry if it goes wrong at all, okay? Try not to panic. We can get another sapling if you damage it, or we can probably resolve it if it’s minor, nature is resilient, so don’t let yourself freak if you mess up by accident,”  
“I, I won’t mess up Dad, I can do it. I’m gonna do it.”  
“I believe in you kiddo,”  
“We’ll be right there if you need us, baby,”

Tyler didn’t say anything more, just giving them a look they could both read. Mom sighed heavily and handed over the gloves, then they took the hint and gave him the space he was so rarely rewarded. 

They were definitely still close enough to hear though. They couldn’t bring themselves to give him that. 

Despite the slight squelch underfoot, Tyler sat down on the grass, crossing his legs, peering into the hole they’d made. It was a lot smaller than his midnight attempt, apparently saplings didn’t need even half the space he thought they might. 

Tyler dipped his hand into the soil, not wearing the gloves, wanting to feel the silky stickiness of the damp mouldable stuff, feel how cold it was, smell the sweet metallic aroma, and let it seep under his nails. He closed his eyes and imagined much more than his hand in the ground. He pictured laying there, in a ditch, with his friends and family scattering the first few sprinklings before the professionals took over and blocked out the light thick and fast, the weight building and building on his chest, pressing him further and further into the ground, compacting and compressing and ultimately smothering him. 

He wondered whether the pearl velvet lining of the casket did anything to protect Josh. 

Plenty of time had been devoted to researching decomposition, he knew his husband’s flesh had likely liquified, but he still had questions. He wanted to know whether the burning he’d endured would impact the process, whether the casket would have any significant effect, whether the particularly brutal winters they’d been having since he entered the ground would interrupt the timelines he found on the page 3 of Google. Though when he dared to ask questions like that out loud, he usually ended up in hospital pretty soon after. 

At least with those questions there were answers though. Somebody somewhere knew the results of a fire on corpse breakdown. All the other questions Tyler had, about the afterlife and spirits and ghosts and angels, nobody knew. When he found himself submerged in forensic pathology blogs for another night on the trot, trying to hunt down the specifics of what his husband had become, he could rationalise the pursuit with the reassurance that there was an answer possible of tracking down. It was easier to torture himself with the revolting reality than dive into a wild goose chase to uncover where his husband - the person, not the body - might be. 

He hoped it was Heaven. 

Somewhere along the line Tyler had convinced himself that reality overruled hope, and only the evidenced was permissible. It was what he’d spent so many years being taught by professionals who knew so much more than he did - don’t believe anything without 3 strands of evidence. Think that figure in the corner of the room is real? Prove it. Find the proof. Demonstrate it’s real by checking others could see what you could see, by taking a photo and ensuring it’s in the captured image, by reaching out and touching it. If you can’t prove it then it’s not real, and if it’s not real then it’s a component of a sickness that needs to be eradicated. 

Now all of a sudden he was being asked to believe in something that no living being could confirm. He was supposed to get on board with the collective delusion of Heaven and it went against all the programming he’d been subjected to by years of psychological treatment, but simultaneously played straight into what he longed to be true. 

He wanted it to be true so badly. 

There was no right answer though, that was what made the ordeal that much more agonising. If he knew for a fact that Heaven was real then it would be a much easier process to accept that Josh had moved forwards to a better place that one day he could join him in. If he knew for a fact that Josh was gone and couldn’t give a shit what Tyler did beyond him then he’d have found it so much easier to call it quits years ago. But no, he lived in limbo, the worst of both worlds. 

He wanted to do right by his husband either way. He wanted to do right by his husband whether his husband was aware or not. 

He knew he’d been failing across the board. Whatever the goal, keeping his parents happy or honouring Josh or just generally not being a shitty human being, he was falling way short, and the distance he needed to make up felt insurmountable. The easier option was to continue not really trying to improve, but the right option was to take what little steps he could, knowing they’d add up eventually, for the sake of the couple watching him with his hand in a hole in their garden. 

“I’m not making a speech,” Tyler whispered out loud as he put the coin in the ground, tails facing up to the overcast sky. 

“But I love you,” he picked up the scarlet oak sapling like his dad had showed him, flipping it sideways and wiggling the black plastic pot off.

“And I miss you,” finally he covered the coin with the roots and started patching in the gaps with the soil he’d pushed aside, using his hands rather than the shovel, gloves still neglected. 

The sapling was barely taller than him as he sat there, crossed legged, but he knew it would grow to be taller than the house. He hoped days would come when his mom would find shade under it during warm days, and his nieces and nephews would play games running round and round the trunk, and his dad would groan he had to pick up yet more leaves when Autumn came. He hoped for simpler times. 

Tyler twisted round to look at his parents, and when his dad spotted him, he pointed at himself and then at Tyler, gesturing for them to join him again, but he shook his head no and his dad nodded that he understood he needed more time. 

Not everything needed words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just found out that AO3 hasn’t been counting the hits of guests or people who aren’t logged in for the past few weeks (since the servers are overwhelmed now everyone is home), which explains why my stats haven’t been as good as I was hoping recently. Also people who click the link in a subscription email don’t count, and people who skip past the first chapter of a multi chapter fic. 
> 
> I try not to hold my stats to heart, but it has been difficult recently as I’ve been posting more but receiving less engagement. However this seems to be an explanation which is somewhat comforting. If you’d like to support me then I’d really appreciate you logging in when you read my fics, and going to the first chapter before the most recent. Also comments and kudos are a massive boost.
> 
> Hope everyone is doing okay in these strange times <3
> 
> Maisie 
> 
> Twitter: anathemasparks  
> Tumblr: anathematrash  
> Email for art: ao3.maisie@gmail.com


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